Fireworks
by Pinkchibs
Summary: America's birthday fic! Yay!  America watches Firworks and England steals his courage only to fall down a hill.


**Bou bou bou bou bou~~!**

**(Je ne suis pas savoir what that was, bou bou bou bou bou~!)**

**Anways, I just invented something… UKTHM. (UK the homicidal maniac) and I'm sure some people will be unhappy with me for it… but…**

"You've got me backed up against a wall!" cried America, his glasses slipping down past the bridge of his nose. He was to scared to fix them.

"No you're not, you git." said England, and reached out with his left hand to push America's glasses back up. The action would have been tender in America's eyes, if not for the _thing_ England held in his right hand.

"Just come out." teased England. America had his eyes on the leather and metal in England's hand. England noticed and held it up for America to see.

_What the heck?_ wondered America. A strap an a doubled ended twork (twork? What the heck was a fork doing with only two prongs anyway?).

"Ah, sometimes Spain is actually useful, the Heretic's Fork. When he's not with France." growled England. "Anyways, If I can get this on you, dear America, then you will be stuck. If your posture isn't absolutely perfect, then you'll get stabbed and bleed to death."

America sucked in a breath. Bleeding to death was his least favorite way to die. It took too long, in his opinion.

And, now that the torture _thing_'s use had been illioustrated to America, he had a quick and bad day-dream that he was watching TV laying on the couch with it around his neck.

"_Get off your lazy arse." said England smiling evilly and leaning over the couch to get his face in America's face. "Oh wait. You can't!_"

America could already feel the cold metal poking into his chest and neck, Even though Engalnd had taken a step back.

"I know! We haven't gotten the chlorine out of our hair yet, have we?" asked England, the homicidal gleam still his eyes.

America shook his head, not sure where England was going with the topic.

"We ought to take a bath." America thought for a moment of laying down in the tub—bingo! He wouldn't be able to get up and so he would probably drown. That would be pay for pulling England into the lap pool and bragging so much about Michael Phelps.

America had always liked showers. England's bath soaps and frilly candles all smelt girly, and America likes be able to shoot water out of his fingers… or at least to look like it when he put his arms under the shower stream.

The _thing_ suddenly made a sharp clatter upon the ground. "Seriously." said England was a smile as he cast it aside. It was not an evil smile, more like a bipolar one. England grabbed America's wrist similar to way America had done to him earlier that day.

"I wouldn't kill you on your birthday, you crazy git." he sang and hauled America down the hall.

It was actually pretty relaxing. America had at first been rather weary that the evil shine in his brother's eyes would return and he'd pull a knife out nowhere or simply hold America's head under the mounds of bubbles, but it didn't seem like he would.

America's feet were on England's chubby tubby, and England's were on America's. It was not as tight a fit as you might think, and America rather enjoyed the weight of England's legs. (And making them soap beards and hats was fun too, because he knew England didn't find it _nearly _ as funny as he did.)

The soap smelled nice, no matter had much America wanted to kick himself for admitting it, and it kind of reminded America of the smell he had smelled on December 16, 1773. Tea (no kidding, England!) and salt.

It was very nice to be able to close his eyes and float together with tangled up legs, in nice not-chemical and non _warm-spot_ ridden water. That was of course, until the water grew cold.

They both stirred, so they got out and dried off. America caught England blush when he saw the watermelon bathing suit hanging from the towel rack.

Then England announced something that America never would have expected to hear from the Brit.

"Birthday sex."

America would not be missing the fireworks he always watched once a year tonight. He got all the fire works he could have wanted.

The only thing that ruined it was something that England said after the fact, when they were laying next to each other, staring at the ceiling elatedly and exhaustedly.

"I wonder what it would have been like if I had put the Heretic's Fork on you…"

**Ha! No lemons for you, cuz I would kill the sexiness of it with my run-f***ing-on-sentences. Facts (on ur snapples~!) :**

**Spain invented the Heretic's Fork sometime during the Spanish inquisition to get people to confess of being bad Catholics. (I think. All I found was the Strapado and that thinky that stretches you until your limbs get torn out. Hurray! jk) And you pet it around your neck and stuff. Oh Spain, you and your toys (poor Romano!)**

**And the Boston Tea party happened in December in Boston (no kidding!) Massachutes and all that good America-as-a-rebellious-teenager stuff.**

**Also, I want to inform you that the one time they **_**showered**_** together, America got soap in England's eye.**

**Happy Birthday America, yours may be the only one I remember /shot for being a stupid American**

**I appoligize for not mentioning hero**


End file.
